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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090933">Healing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch/pseuds/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch'>JustAnotherNinetiesBitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Greenleaf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Honesty, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Late Night Conversations, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Season/Series 04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch/pseuds/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the impromptu engagement party, Lady Mae confides in Grace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The vibration of her iPhone distracted Grace from the late-hour rerun of <em> Scandal </em> and she swiped the pad of her thumb across the screen to view the text from Sophia: <em> Grandma’s asleep on the couch x </em></p><p>Grace dismissed the impulse to fire twenty questions at Sophia about her early departure from the party and why she opted to sneak into her old bedroom as opposed to Zora’s cabin. Instead, she promptly replied: <em> I’ll check on Grandma. Get some sleep x </em></p><p>Grace padded barefoot from her suite and down the staircase to the private quarters of the Greenleaf residence. Her mother was nestled between a selection of throw pillows, head tilted back and off to one side with a pair of bifocals balanced precariously on her nose and a King James Bible on her lap. She had replaced the divine silver Ralph Lauren gown with a pale pink, silk sleepsuit and her curls were unpinned to loosely frame her face. “Mama,” Grace crouched beside her mother and softly shook her knee until she roused, bleary-eyed. “What’cha doin’ down here?”</p><p>Mae removed the bifocals and rubbed her eyes, “I couldn’t sleep after all the excitement of the party.”</p><p>“You certainly whipped the deacon board into a frenzy with your speech. I’ll bet Connie is the only one to vote with <em> Harmony &amp; Hope. </em> ” Grace observed her mother with an air of concern when she failed to register the compliment; <em> this </em>was more than the desire to decompress from hours of social pleasantries with the finest members of the Calvary fellowship. </p><p>“Grace,” Mae soberly beckoned her eldest child and patted the empty space to her right. “I have to tell you something,” she wearily transported the King James Bible from her lap to the coffee table. </p><p>“What is it, mama? Did someone upset you?”</p><p>“Please understand that I am only about to tell you this because I would much rather you hear it from me than somebody with far less pure intentions, namely Connie,” Mae provided a provocative preface. “I also need you to promise me that we will only ever speak of this once<em> . </em>” </p><p>There was a nervous beat as Grace contemplatively pursed her lips before she committed herself entirely to her mother’s will, “I promise.” </p><p>“Last week, I sat with the <em> Sisters of Tamar </em> -”</p><p>“Yeah, mama, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Mae quickly fell silent, not insensitive to the visceral disappointment Grace continually held her in, “I really wish you hadn’t.” She had been disheartened to hear that her mother had invaded the support circle, supposedly to defend her honour in relation to Mac and his abuse of the scholarship fund. “That room was supposed to be a safe space for those women -”</p><p>“When I was a child, my father sexually abused me. I sat in the room as a member, Grace.”</p><p>Grace beheld her mother in absolute bewilderment, though she had total faith in the truth of her words. She wrestled with a natural instinct to reach out and embrace her mother the way she would have done for any woman who shared such a heavy burden. “That’s what Darlene meant,” she murmured, “When she said how brave you were.” Her assistant had shied away from further discussion when Grace pressed her for an explanation and Grace filed the comment in the back of her mind to be reviewed in-depth at a later date. Yet, thanks to <em> Harmony &amp; Hope’s </em>relentless attacks on their family name and church, the otherwise trivial remark had been all but erased from her memory. “Does daddy know?”</p><p>Mae softly nodded her head. She strenuously avoided Grace’s eye, too terrified to feel the depths of her sympathy and warmth for it would surely cause her to crumble. “I confided in him after Robert passed. Up until the <em> Sisters of Tamar, </em> your father was the only person I had ever told.”</p><p>“How old were you?”</p><p>“The first time -- uh, I was twelve.” Mae hesitated, as if she had to <em> try </em>to recall - as if the wretched memory wasn’t there on the surface of her soul.</p><p>Grace quietly lamented the fact that her mother had endured such a brutal assault more than once. The wound on her mother's psyche was so profound, the scars so deep and raw that the trauma haunted her fifty years on. “Mama,” she tentatively curled both of her hands around her mothers. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry that happened to you.” </p><p>“Thank you, baby,” Mae whispered and softly squeezed Grace by the hand. </p><p>“Can you talk to me about what happened?” Grace sensed her mother bristle and heeded the voice in the back of her mind that was her father who advised her to tread cautiously. </p><p>“No,” Mae fiercely recoiled. She had said the words once to James, twice to Darlene and Vita, a third time to the <em> Sisters of Tamar </em> and it hadn’t been cathartic, nor did she feel cleansed of her sins. The shame threatened to overpower her so that she could barely say the words, let alone reference the abuse in detail.</p><p>“Mama,” Grace anchored her mother still. “It’s okay.” There was an earnest sincerity in her eyes that had been present since the day she was born; it was the Lord within Grace and <em> He </em> lulled Mae into a sense of emotional protection she rarely received. “You can say whatever you need to.” The faintest scowl appeared on her mother’s face, like that of a furious and confused child, but it was no more than a visible battle to prevent the inevitable tears when she finally unburdened her spirit. Grace delicately probed her mother once more, “What happened when you were twelve?”</p><p>Seconds passed by before Mae reluctantly answered in a small, timid voice. “Mavis and I came home from school one day. We could hear mama and daddy screamin’ at each other before we walked in the door. Daddy was so mad, he ran out the house swearin’ he’d never be back.” Mae recalled, and the memory seemed almost familiar to Grace, who Mavis had entertained with wild tales of the McCready family over Shirley Temples. “I ran after him, and I cried and pleaded with him not to leave,” her mother tearfully frowned. “But he did… and I sat out on our old porch for hours, ‘til mama said she’d beat me into next Sunday if I didn’t come inside.” Mae repeated the threat with a cheerless smile, and allowed a solemn pause. “When daddy finally came home, it was late, everybody was asleep and he crawled into my bed stinkin’ of liquor.” Grace swallowed the lump in her throat that preceded nausea, as she listened to her mother’s breath hitch on the words. “He said he loved me, that -- I was his yellow Daisy Mae and he could never leave me. Then, he kissed me… and I was so happy to have him back, I -'' she audibly winced, the memory too attainable, too <em> real </em> as if she were still pinned beneath the immense heaviness of her father’s body. </p><p>“It wasn’t your fault, mama,” Grace vowed emphatically when her mother momentarily faltered in an attempt to justify <em>her</em> <em>response </em>to her father's incomprehensible actions. </p><p>“When it was all over, I climbed into bed with Robert and I held onto him so hard.” She could still envision the pout on the little boy’s face, irritated by the disturbance but blissfully unaware of her ordeal. “I slept in his bed with him for weeks afterwards. Then, daddy took me to Nashville…” Grace swallowed the bile that rose from her stomach; Mavis had spitefully mentioned the exclusive trips and new dresses Henry favoured Mae with on more than one occasion but Grace had failed to make the connection. “Every other weekend, we would visit the same little blues bar and he’d let me drink a Martini. I felt so sophisticated.” There was a bitterness in her tone and the hollow laugh that followed which radically spun into sorrow, “I didn’t know what to do.” She promptly dissolved into tears and curled into Grace’s open arms, soothed only by her embrace and the soft whispers of assurance that she was not to blame.</p><p>“It’s okay, you’re safe.” Grace held her mother for several minutes while she wept, and tenderly stroked her hair until her distress subsided. She ached for all her mother had endured alone. <em> This </em> revelation was the final piece of the puzzle; why she had refused to accept the truth about Mac, why she had banished Henry from their lives and why she had always seemed so <em> reserved. </em> </p><p>“Gigi?”</p><p>“Yeah, mama,” Grace quickly wiped away any evidence of her tears and rebuilt her composure which threatened to splinter when her mother whimpered her nickname in the voice akin to a traumatised child.</p><p>“I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t,” her mother wailed. “You have to believe me, I didn’t know.” </p><p>A frown etched on Grace’s forehead and she softly replied, “Know what, mama?” </p><p>“About Mac and Faith,” Mae’s voice trembled, as it did whenever her daughter's name left her lips. There were those who believed she had willingly surrendered Faith to her tragic fate - Mavis, most notably. She prayed that any seeds of doubt her sister had planted in Grace's mind had withered away into dust. It wounded her soul that Grace once believed her capable of such evil.</p><p>“I do, mama,” Grace cupped her mothers face in her hands. “I believe you and I love you.” </p>
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